Mosaic Hearts
by wowstars
Summary: Boarding School AU. When Rita's father takes a job in Australia, her parents decide that rather than upset her A levels they should sent her to boarding school. Soon she is absorbed into the school and the lives of those within it, most importantly her enigmatic roommate, Connie Beauchamp. But is she all she seems? Freechamp, with Zax and a bit of Dyfty mixed in
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! I'm really sorry I seem to have abandoned All Too Well, I haven't really and I will be back on it as soon as I have the inspiration for it. This is an idea I've had in my mind for a while, just haven't had the motivation to write it, until now! Thanks to Oblivionokay for her endless** **support, she is fab, and everyone else whose screen names I can't remember because I have a head like a sieve, you know who you are and you're brilliant! Anyway, hope you all enjoy this, its just setting the scene for now, but more developments to come in the next chapter!**

 **Have fun!x**

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I'm not sure how my life could get any worse right now.

This morning, after months of protest and tears and bargaining, I finally filled up my suitcases and, with a heavy heart, climbed into the car that would deliver me to my fate. Mum and Dad didn't come with me, no; this was too hard on the of that. Of course, everything is hard on them. I don't have feelings. Or I might as well not, for all the good it does me.

When the taxi eventually pulled up outside the large, surprisingly modern campus I wanted to scream. All around I could see kids with their parents, kissing, hugging, promising to write and telling how they can't wait to see them at half term. I'll be lucky to see my parents at Christmas.

I'm making it out like I'm from a broken home, a neglectful family, a childhood of pain and disruption, but up until recently my family life had been relatively good. We were just normal. I would go to the football with my dad on a weekend, bake cakes and go shopping with mum, trust both of them with my life and be able to tell them everything on my mind. That was until dad got his new job. It's more money, he'd told me, what can be bad about that? He was working away most of the time, and I missed him, though not as much as mum. She was nothing less than distraught at the separation, and at night I would hear her crying. I tried to comfort her for the first couple of months, but she didn't see to want comforting. All she wanted was dad, and so I left her to it.

Six months down the line and they both sit me down for a 'family meeting'. We'd only ever had one of these before, and that was when they had told me that my aunt had died. I was trembling, my stomach as cold as ice, braced for the terrible news. Mum was dying, dad was dying, my best friend was dying. I was completely unprepared for what they had to say next.

"Darling, I've been offered a job in Australia."

My mouth fell open. "What?"

"I said I've been offered a job in Australia, and after lots of consideration, your mother and I have decided to accept it."

"What about me?" I whispered. "Didn't I get a say in this decision?" There were tears in my eyes and I was shivering with quiet rage.

My mother offered me a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, love," she said in her soft, north-eastern accent. "But this was a decision your father and I needed to make."

I sat in silence for several moments, processing just what they had said. Moving to Australia? I couldn't envision it. How could I move to Australia? Leave my life, my friends? Never mind my education. I had just finished my AS exams and was hoping to go on to uni next year to fulfil my lifelong aspiration to become a nurse. How could I pass my A levels in Australia?

"So when are we going?" I eventually said, flatly, numbly, resigned to my fate.

My dad hesitated, looking at my mother for support and she squeezed his hand. "That's the thing, darling," he began slowly. "This job is only for a year, and with your A levels coming up and university and everything… We thought it best that you stay here."

I frowned. "What, so you go swanning off to Australia whilst mum and I are left to fend for ourselves? Do you realise how much your working away tears her apart as it is?" I was getting angry now, bordering on yelling.

He looked at me gravely, and I waited expectantly for a response.

"Your mother is coming with me. You're staying here."

I was stunned into silence, and he took this as cue to explain further.

"I will be earning a fair amount more in this job than the one I have now," he said, his voice speeding up, rambling. "So we thought we'd invest that in your education. You're going to be moving to Saint Margaret's School, just outside the city, and you'll live there until your mother and I return."

I felt my world crashing down around me and my head span, and it hasn't stopped spinning since. Everything feels too much to take in, and as I step out of the taxi I have to bite the insides of my cheeks hard to stop the tears. I must appear strong. I can't have people thinking I'm a wreck otherwise they'll walk all over me. I need to power through it.

On the first day of term there were no lessons, I was informed, just admin tasks. I was to place my luggage with the rest of my year group's, making sure I had attached a tag to it with my name and tutor group, then go to the main hall to wait for instructions on what would be our itinerary for the day. Then, in the evening, we would be allocated our rooms.

The main hall was massive, much larger than the one at my sixth form previously. It had a stage at the front, set out with curtains and lighting sets just like they do at proper theatres. The seats were arranged in rows, again like a theatre, with a wide aisle through the middle. On the walls were plaques commemorating past students who had gone on to achieve fame - a couple of actors, some Olympic athletes and a nobel prize winner - and from the ceiling hung several large and priceless-looking chandeliers. Coming from my small, state-funded, run-down sixth form, this place was practically Buckingham Palace.

I kept my chin stuck out in feigned confidence as I made my way to sit on the end of a row at the back of the hall. There were already a few students gathered in the seats around me and I tried to look nonchalant as I waited for the assembly to begin. Soon, though, there were more students filling the seats around me and it wasn't long before someone spoke.

"Hello," a kind-looking, red-headed girl said as she shuffled up next to me, beaming. "You must be new. I'm Robyn."

She held out her hand to me and I hesitated before accepting her warm shake. "Rita," I replied, smiling back.

"That's a nice name," she thought out loud. She seemed quite dreamy and I felt slight fondness for her already. "Where have you come from, then?"

"Holby Comprehensive," I replied.

"Ah, I've got a friend that went there. They're at uni now though. What subjects are you taking?"

"Biology, Chemistry and Psychology. You?"

"That sounds tough. I'm doing Health and Social Care NVQ."

"That sounds interesting," I smiled. "What does that involve?"

She started to explain to me the various topics they studied on her course and I listened intently, as it sounded much like something I might have taken had they offered it at Holby. She was just going through the case study she was doing for her coursework when I felt a presence behind me, and her face fell. I frowned and turned to face her mystery tormentor.

She was a tall girl, towering over the both of us. Her long, dark, wavy hair swung round her shoulders, her long fringe tucked carefully behind her ears to stop it covering her face as she looked down at Robyn. She wore cold expression, and a mocking smirk. I looked back down to the ground and saw the reason for her height. She wore tall, black stilettos which I'm sure were more expensive than all my belongings put together. I looked to Robyn, confused as to why this girl was here, but she was merely staring up at her in fear.

"Hello Miller," the taller girl said with false kindness. "Did you have a nice summer?"

"Yes, thank you," Robyn stammered, looking nervously towards the ground. "Did- did you?"

The girl laughed. "Oh yes it was lovely," she said sarcastically. "Or would have been, had someone not stolen my clothes on the last day of term. But you don't know anything about that, do you, Miller?" She leant over me so that her face was nearing Robyn's and twisted into a snarl.

"No. No I don't," Robyn tried to hold her ground, but I could see she was getting tearful.

"Of course," she smiled, then her face went hard and she spoke with so much venom that is made my heart thump. "I know it was you. So you had better watch your back this term. It would be such a shame if something were to happen to your personal belongings, wouldn't it?"

I saw Robyn's bottom lip wobble, and my care for this girl who had made me feel so welcome in just a few minutes fuelled my anger at the girl who now leant over me obliviously.

"Hey," I said, raising my voice and pushing her away from Robyn. "You need to calm down and back off. She doesn't have to answer to you."

The girl turned to me, her eyes boring into mine. I felt my stomach drop and twist and turn. Her cool blue eyes were sharp and I felt as though she could see right into me, could see my fear. She had a light peppering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and I could see a red tint to her cheeks beneath her makeup. I stuck my chin out in defiance.

She held my gaze for a few seconds more, then turned back to Robyn. "I won't forget this."

She stalked off, and I let out a deep breath that I hadn't even realised I had been holding. "Who was that?" I asked, flustered.

Robyn looked at me with a wince. "That was Connie Beauchamp."

I turned around to look at the girl who was walking away from us, trying to act nonchalant. But in reality, I felt anything but. Something had shifted, then, when our eyes had met, and I hadn't the faintest clue what. All I knew was that I was intrigued by this girl, and determined to find out more about her. She awakened a sort of irritability within me, an anger, and I felt like screaming.

Hopefully I wouldn't have much more to do with her here.

"So how have you found it so far?"

It was now nearing eight o'clock, and we had just been allocated our dorms. I was in the 'Sparrow' block, and my housemistress was Miss Dixon. However, she wasn't around today, so Zoe Hanna, the head girl, was showing me around instead. She was attractive, medium-height, dark-skinned and had a smile that lit up the entire corridor. I was half expecting the head girl to be some jumped up, brattish rich girl with her head in the clouds, but Zoe was one of the most easy to talk to people I have ever met. I knew immediately that she would be a confidant during my stay here.

"It's been okay," I replied. "Better than expected."

She smiled warmly at me. "You'll get used to it. It's tough on everyone when they first arrive, particularly the older ones as they are less used to it. But it gets better."

"How long have you been here?" I asked as we turned a corner to go up some stairs.

"Since year twelve. They offer a certain number of scholarships each year to people that did well in their GCSEs but can't afford to go to a place like this. I thought it was a good opportunity, so here I am."

We went up two more flights of stairs to a corridor with only two doors on it. I assumed that this was what had once been the attic, as the roof was slanted and I could hear the rain softly thumping down above me. She stopped outside the second door, the one at the end of the corridor, and carefully unlocked the door before handing me the key.

"Your roommate should be up soon. I'm not sure who you're sharing with yet, but they're usually quite good at matching people. Your luggage is in there. You know where I am if you need me."

She smiled warmly and I returned this, watching her leave before opening the door to my room.

It was larger than I had expected, with a door in the corner which I assumed was for the bathroom. At the far end of the room there was a tall, wide window filling almost the entire wall, and below it two oak desks, both supplied with storage boxes and office chairs. There was a bed against the wall on each side of the room, with room for clothes both underneath and in the small wardrobes next to them. My suitcase was on one of them, and an unknown one on the other.

I began unpacking my case, deciding to try to stay up until my roommate arrived. I was tired, though, and after an hour decided to get ready for bed. The bathroom was small, but still housed a shower, bath, and two sinks beneath a wide bathroom cabinet. I decided to go with the general theme of the room and put all my toiletries in the left hand side of the cabinet. I was just brushing my teeth when I heard the door open, and footsteps on the carpet.

Quickly rinsing my mouth, I went back into the room, a large smile on my face as I prepared to meet my new roommate. She was sat on top of her desk, her silhouette illuminated my the moonlight that flooded through the large window, and when she turned to me my stomach flipped.

It was going to be a long year.

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	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but in the meantime here is chapter two. There is a lot more development of the plot in this chapter, and the next one will be more action-filled (I hope - sometimes I end up going off plan). Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews, both on here and on tumblr; they make me so happy and really do spur me on to write. Keep them coming!**

 **Enjoy!**

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My first lesson the next day was psychology. I was sat next to a girl called Alicia, who informed me that she too was a friend of Robyn's and asked if I'd like to join them for lunch. I accepted eagerly and she grinned at me, happily colouring in her notes. The teacher was Miss Dixon, or 'Dixie' as everyone else seemed to call her, and she introduced herself to me as my housemistress. She told me where her room was situated and that if I ever needed anything or had any problems all I had to do was knock on her door. I was glad of this.

Last night Connie and I didn't speak a word to one another. I was about to speak, but then she gave me a look of such disregard that I thought better of it and went and got into bed, and she went into the bathroom. She must have been in there ages, as I don't remember hearing her go to bed, and I woke up to the sound of the door being slammed shut, her duvet scrunched into a ball at the end of her bed and her pyjamas in a heap on the floor. I sighed, getting up to the bathroom to get washed and ready for my first day of lessons. On my way out I picked up her pyjamas, tossed them under her pillow and made her bed. I wasn't sure why I'd done it, but I had felt compelled to. Perhaps I was just conscious of the mess.

After psychology I had a free period, which I spent in the library going over my biology notes in preparation for the next lesson. I only needed two B's and a C for my nursing course, but I was desperate to get an A in biology as it was my favourite subject and a good thing to have for nursing. I looked at my timetable. Dr Keogh was my teacher, and the lesson was over in the lab block. I left the library fifteen minutes before the lesson began so that I wasn't late if I got lost. The walk wasn't too long, but it was a wet and dreary September day and the only way to the lab block was outdoors.

Soon I arrived at my destination, wiping my feet on the mat before tentatively walking down the corridor to see which room was the one I needed. I found it almost immediately, and with ten minutes still to spare I decided to go for a wander. It shocked me how modern the buildings were, having came from a run down, inner city comprehensive which only just passed its health and safety inspection. In the winter, I recalled fondly, the rain would cause the roofs to leak, sometimes to the extent that entire classrooms would be out of bounds. One day, when the rain had been particularly bad, the ceiling of one of the RE rooms caved in entirely, and everyone got to go home for the day whilst they repaired it. There was no chance of that here.

Upstairs there were more science labs, and some storage units. As I reached the end of the corridor I could see a large, grand-looking board with names of people that had won science contests over the years. As I scanned it I was surprised to see a familiar name there. '2013: Constance Beauchamp (Year 10)', it read. So that's why she thinks she owns the place, I thought to myself, she's rich and clever. The following two years were filled with names that I didn't recognise, so I moved on.

I glanced out of the large window next to the stairwell as I descended it, looking in awe at the large buildings and gardens. I was about half was down when I noticed two dark figures standing outside in the rain, behind the maths block. Sure that they wouldn't notice me, I leant closer to the window, realising who they were.

Zoe Hanna paced back and forth along the building, her coat huddled around herself protectively. She was talking animatedly, her face twisted into a frown. She had a cigarette in one hand, and her packet and lighter in the other. Leant against the wall next to her was Connie Beauchamp, also with a cigarette but seemingly forgetting about it as she raised an eyebrow at Zoe. She looked relaxed, carefree, and at first I thought that they must be friends. That was until Connie suddenly reached across and violently grabbed the head girl by the wrists, the contents of her hands tumbling to the floor as she looked at her attacker with an expression of alarm and fear. Connie had pulled her up so their faces were mere inches from one another's, in a similar way to how she had confronted Robyn yesterday, and I watched as they conversed frantically until the bell signalling the start of my next lesson shook me out of my trance. I was swarmed almost instantly by a crowd of GCSE students coming out of a science lesson, and by the time I managed to look out again both had disappeared.

There was nobody familiar in my biology class, so I wasn't bothered when Dr Keogh informed be that there was a compulsory seating plan. I was placed on one of the far benches, next to the prep area and the fume cupboard. On my right was an unremarkable looking boy. James, he was called, or something along those lines. On my left was an empty seat. Dr Keogh began to lecture us all on lab safety, as if we weren't all old enough to know better by now, and soon had us all taking notes for an upcoming practical exam. About ten minutes into the lesson the door burst open.

"First day back and already Miss Beauchamp is late. That's a new record," Dr Keogh said sarcastically, his hands on his hips. She ignored him and quickly rushed to her seat. It took me a moment or two to realise she was coming in my direction, and as she caught sight of me she seemed to pause momentarily before striding on and taking the seat next to me without a word. I wondered if she had seen me watching from the window.

She was silent for the next fifteen minutes, not even taking notes from what Dr Keogh was teaching, until Cal Knight, the head boy, started answering a question on homeostasis and she laughed obnoxiously.

"Something funny, Miss Beauchamp?" Dr Keogh asked, again placing his hands on his hips. he seemed to like that position.

"Not at all, Dr Keogh," she replied, her face twisting into a sardonic grin. "I'm just marvelling at how incredibly dense our dear head boy is. Well done, Mr Knight."

"Really, Connie? Are we really going to continue this, this term?" He gave her a pointed look, and she stared him down until he eventually held his hands up defeatedly.

"Right. Can you leave now, Connie. There are people here who actually want to learn."

She seemed pleased by this, and packed away her books victoriously before swiftly exiting the room. I gaped after her, further baffled by this girl that I was unfortunate enough to have for a roommate. Everything I learned about her only served to puzzle me more about her true nature. First her confrontation with Robyn, then seeing her name on the honours board, watching her attacking the head girl and now this. My best option, it seemed, was to try to have as little as I could to do with her, to whatever extent that was achievable.

This plan seemed to fail though, as I had my first chemistry lesson after lunch and found myself once again seated next to her. Dr Hardy was much less strict than Dr Keogh, and he didn't have an allocated seating plan, but the classroom was small and so the only free seat was next to her. She again acted as though I didn't exist, and twenty minutes into the lesson simply got up and left.

I started to get the feeling that she had a problem with me, which was understandable, I suppose, after I had confronted her about Robyn. However, to go to the extent that she would leave a lesson if I was in it seemed a bit exaggerated. I wondered if I should maybe speak to Dixie about switching rooms, it seemed to be for the best. But I didn't want to. Something about her compelled me to stay. Maybe it was the desire to be her friend that held me in. I don't know why I wanted anything to do with her, really, but there was a part of me, a rather large part, that wanted to know more about her. She was this dark, mysterious figure that had suddenly been cast into my life and I was desperate to understand her.

Then I remembered how she had grasped Zoe so violently, and the look of terror on the friendly head girl's face and she shook her and my stomach went cold. Whoever this girl was, she was heartless, and whatever I had to do with her I knew could only turn out bad.

After dinner I was tired and wanted to get to bed as soon as possible, so I politely dismissed myself from my new group of friends and heavily made my way over to the Sparrow dorms.

As I walked I wondered if I would ever get used to wandering past dark classrooms and lockers at night, and at the end of the day not having that feeling of exhilaration as I rushed to the gate for freedom. I sighed heavily. My final year of education spent in captivity.

I turned a corner and suddenly I heard voices. I ducked behind a locker, sensing one to be that of the headteacher, Mr Fairhead, who I hadn't yet had any dealings with. Then came another voice, her voice, and my heart was in my mouth.

"Really, Charlie, it's a disgrace," she spat and I heard him hum in agreement. A door creaked and as I quickly glanced around I could see him holding open a classroom door for her. His forehead was creased and his eyes squinted in displeasure.

"I can't believe it, I really can't," she continued heatedly. "It's absolutely ridiculous. How could…"

And that's all I heard as the door clicked shut. Was she complaining about me to the headteacher? If so, that really was serious, and my stomach turned cold. Would I get kicked out, having only been here less than three days? What would I do then? Mum and Dad would be on the flight to Australia now, and after that there was no turning back. My heart hammered in my chest.

I rushed back to my room, my mind in overdrive. Was she really that pissed off that I had stood up to her? I wanted to cry, emotions running through me like waves as I went from anger to fear to sympathy to sorrow. She became more perplexing with every hour I spent in this place, and more dangerous. She had the headteacher on her side, that was obvious from the fact that she was on first name terms with him, and I was all alone.

I slept fitfully that night, dreaming of expulsions and fights and Connie Beauchamp. The next morning I woke in a sweat, my stomach heavy with dread as of what was to come. I glanced across the room to see her bedsheets, again crumpled up and her pyjamas left on the floor. A fleeting feeling of fondness passed though my mind at this little habit, but it was gone before I could even properly register it. I got up and dressed ready for the day ahead, and, despite my best efforts to resist, quickly made up her bed on my way out.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay, I've been away and wasn't quite sure where to finish this chapter, but I got there eventually. A lot more drama in this chapter, and the next chapter should be fairly action-packed too! Thank you so much to the amazing reviews so far, they're fantastic! Please do keep telling me your thoughts! Enjoy x**

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I never got a visit from the headmaster that day, or the next. In fact, I never got any kind of word from anyone in relation to Connie Beauchamp. So I decided to leave it, to distance, to back off. Just because we were roommates didn't mean we had to speak, and we didn't. Weeks passed without so much as a word, and each lesson we were together she would either leave or not turn up at all. I felt guilty, like I was having an impact on her education, but at the same time I wanted to do well myself and knew that I wouldn't be able to focus with her in the lesson.

A couple of weeks before half term, however, I happened to leave my biology textbook in my room. Dr Keogh had sighed dramatically, before telling me to go and fetch one from the library as it was closer to the lab and would be quicker than climbing all those stairs.

I hadn't been to the library before and it took me a few moments to take it all in. It was a maze of shelves and chairs, with a high ceiling and chandelier, and I was sure that if I was ever to look for a book in there I would get lost. I quickly explained to the librarian why I was here and she directed me to where the textbooks were stored, but made no move to help me. Quietly I started through the shelves to find the section labelled 'Educational Resources' and I got to it much quicker than I had anticipated, thankfully.

As I pulled the thick, heavy book from the shelf I caught glimpse of someone behind it, sat on the floor surrounded by books and bits of paper. Looking around me as inconspicuously as I could and seeing that there was no one near, I pressed my face to the hole in the bookshelf.

My heart stopped in my chest and I had to fight myself from letting free a sigh of exasperation. This girl was fast becoming infuriating as I grew more and more perplexed at her actions and her motives. Connie was absorbed, engrossed in her textbooks to the extent that I think I could have choked on the breath I was holding and her not notice. I watched her in fascination as she worked, her forehead creased slightly as she followed a particular section of the text with her finger. Around her were at least five different neatly colour-coded mind maps, and some felt pens scattered across the floor. This sight was such a juxtaposition from her outward manner and reputation that it was mesmerising. Did she really just go and work every day when she skipped lesson? I was so confused and wrapped up in my thoughts that I jumped when the librarian appeared beside me.

"Did you find what you needed, dear?"

My heart pounded at the fright and I silently nodded before rushing away back to class. I didn't know how long I had been watching Connie work, but I knew that it was long enough that Dr Keogh wouldn't be happy.

"And where have you been?"

"Sorry, sir. I got lost."

"Pathetic excuse, frankly. Sit down," he said flatly. He was always so blunt and his signature move seemed to be the infamous hands on hips. He was such a creature of habit and quiet indignation that I almost felt fondly toward him. I got back to my seat and flicked to the page of the textbook we were studying, a slight smile on my lips and as I glanced up I saw the lab assistant, Lofty, looking at Dr Keogh with a similar sense of endearment. I had seen this look on his face many times though, almost each lesson, and I could sense that his admiration for the teacher ran a lot deeper than mine did. When I told Robyn she informed me that Dr Keogh and Lofty had been dancing around one another for years, a joke that the whole school was in on as the two involved seemed entirely oblivious. I thought this was rather adorable.

For the rest of the day my thoughts were full of Connie Beauchamp. Now I knew how she still managed to get good grades without going to lessons, I was further intrigued to find out what else she was masking. It was like an itch I needed to scratch, and after my second period psychology lesson I went straight to the library, to see if she was still there. I had a free next, and so it didn't matter that I had trekked all the way to the other side of the school, just to catch a glimpse of her working. She had looked so harmless in that moment, so innocent and child-like in her concentration that my heart had ached for her. I am somebody who is always willing to believe the best in people, and in that moment I honestly did. But I knew it was a sham.

Even so, as I poked my head around the bookshelves, there she was. From what I could see, she was doing maths work now. There was a large black textbook with frayed binding laid open before her, and sheets covered in graphs and equations and diagrams and charts all arranged haphazardly before her. I knew from Alicia they they had an end of unit exam coming up soon, so figured that this must have been what she was revising for. I wondered if that was the reason for the sudden work ethic, but we had already had our biology and chemistry papers last week and so she couldn't have been revising for that when I had walked in on her earlier. After what I had seen of her so far, the violence and the aggression and the hardness, this was something of a relief, though I still couldn't work her out. Why skip lesson if you're going to spend the time doing the work anyway? To me, it made no sense whatsoever.

And what of her affiliations with Mr Fairhead? From what I understood, she often spent her evenings in his company, and always had done. The first time I had seen them together, I had assumed that she was speaking to him on a support level, that he was someone she could go to if she needed to talk things out. But meeting with him more or less every day seemed a little excessive. Everything about her seemed to grind on my nerves and make me want to scream. Her every move filled me with more questions that I couldn't get the answers to and the frustration was crippling.

I don't know why she had this effect on me, and I don't think I ever will. It was something completely unconscious, some unknown force of nature that dragged me towards her and wouldn't let me tear myself away. I kept telling myself over and over she's bad news, she's bad news, but it was useless. I needed to learn her every secret, to know her better than I knew myself, and it was something I was unable to fight.

I had seen Zoe only once or twice in the past couple of weeks, and when I did it was only briefly, or in passing. She seemed distracted, withdrawn, on edge. Put simply, she looked like she needed a hug, but I couldn't without letting her know that I had seen her that time with Connie. I wondered if it was Connie who was causing this distraction in her, whether her bullying and her antagonism had become overwhelming and she was cracking under its pressure. Again that fury at my roommate bubbled away.

Two days later, the day before we broke up for half term, it all came to a head.

It was breakfast-time, the canteen was bustling and I had woken up in a particularly dire mood as Connie had only come in at around three in the morning, waking me up and putting me on edge for the rest of the night. It was the first time I had actually seen her get out of bed as usually she was up and gone by the time my alarm went off. We got ready together silently, her delicately applying her mascara as I brushed the knots out of my short blonde hair. I went into the bathroom to clean my teeth and when I came back she was gone, pyjamas and bedsheets thrown indignantly across the floor as per usual. However, today I was not in the mood, and I huffed as I violently tucked them back into her bed. I hadn't felt much like breakfast, my anger was so intense, but I knew that if I skipped it then I would get hungry in an hour or so and then have to wait until lunch. I grabbed a couple of slices of toast and some jam and went to sit down.

The only person there that I knew well enough to sit with was Zoe, as my friends, like myself, usually got up a good half an hour after this. But this morning, as I was awake anyway, I decided to leave early. I wanted to see where it was Connie got to at this time of day. I don't know what I was expecting really, because when I walked into the canteen she was there, sat at a table in the corner with a plate of bacon and eggs. Sharing the table with her was Max Walker, Robyn's brother. Nobody spoke to him really, not even Robyn, and he was regarded of the 'loser' of the school. He didn't get good grades and he was only still allowed to study here because his mother was paying for it. His hair was scruffy, his face often downturned and he was a regular victim of Cal. I had spoken to him once, though, and he seemed nice. I felt sorry for him, really.

Zoe looked slightly perkier this morning, I thought, and was enjoying a small plate of scrambled eggs. I nodded to her as I sat down and she smiled at me. We made small talk for a while, me not wanting to upset the mood by asking her how she was feeling. But I still noticed, every few seconds, her eyes darted quickly towards Connie's table and away again, her face fearful, as though the sight burned her. I clenched my teeth.

A few minutes later, Zoe said she was going to sort out something with Mr Fairhead before lessons began. As she stood up she wavered and said she thought she had eaten too much. I frowned at this, looking down at her small, half-eaten plate of food. She had hardly eaten a thing, but before I had time to ask questions she was gone.

I went back to sipping my orange juice contemplatively. I thought about everything, about Zoe, about Connie. There was something I was missing, something staring me in the face here that I couldn't quite see just yet. It was eating away at my guts and making my heart beat faster. I could feel anticipation rising, but I didn't know what for. I just knew that something wasn't right.

Then I looked around and Connie was gone.

I stood up quickly, putting my plate and cutlery on the dirty shelf and walking out almost on autopilot. Everything happened so fast that I don't know why I chose to go into the toilets. She could have been anywhere, but my feet directed me here, and they weren't wrong.

Connie Beauchamp was stood tall, both hands resting on the door of the middle toilet cubicle, banging aggressively.

"Zoe," she raised her voice, but didn't shout. "Zoe open the door now."

I stood gaping for several moments, unable to move, unsure of what action to take. I thought maybe I should go get help.

"Zoe, open the fucking door." She was getting more confrontational now. More desperate. "Zoe, if you don't open this door right now I'm going to smash it in. Zoe!" She banged on the door with her palms, placing an ear to it briefly before standing back.

"Hey!" I yelled at her, not feeling as though the words were coming from me. Fear pulsed through my veins and I was glued to where I stood.

She turned to look at me, narrowing her eyes exasperatedly. "Get out," she spat. "Get out now. This is nothing to do with you, you can't be here. Leave."

I looked at her incredulously. "Nothing to do with me?" I shouted back. "You've been bullying her for months!"

"Bullying!" She looked at me angrily, as though she was about to turn on me but a clatter from behind the toilet door returned her attention there, and before I could make another comment she had kicked the door in and was rushing inside.

I ran towards them, my heart racing. Zoe was slumped over the toilet bowl, her forehead beaded with perspiration and her jaw hanging slack. There was drool around her chin, and a quick glance towards the toilet let me know she had been vomiting. Connie was knelt beside her, tapping her on the cheek with one hand and shaking her with the other.

"Get off her," I spat, grabbing her by the shoulder and trying to pull her off the unconscious head girl. She was stronger than she looked, and stayed put, continuing to try and shake Zoe into life.

"Come on Zoe, come on," she murmured to her, her face twisted into a mixture of worry and fright. As she spoke she reached into her back pocket for her phone with one hand.

I was fuming. "So are you having regrets now then, eh?" I growled, arms crossed, admittedly paying much more attention to Connie than Zoe. When she ignored me I continued, fury and venom lacing my every word. "Very common in bullying victims, you know, bulimia."

She turned her head at my so fast I'm surprised she didn't hurt her neck. "Bulimia!" She cried, her eyes frantic and her breaths coming out unsteady with almost equal fury to mine. "She doesn't have bulimia, it's hyperemesis gravidarum."

I gaped for a moment, my mind whirring, processing what had just been said.

"She's pregnant."

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 **Please review and let me know your thoughts!x**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is huge! I think I got a bit carried away with this one. The first freechamp conversation! Again, thank you for the lovely reviews and please do keep them coming! They really do help me to keep writing. And I'd love to hear your thought on what you think will happen next in the story, or anything you'd particularly like to see!**

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Time seemed to slow then, shuddering to a momentary halt before steadily starting up again, returning to a regular pace. She had the phone to her ear, and I was snapped out of my stupor as she began to speak.

"Charlie," she said, business-like in her tone. "Yeah, we're going to need an ambulance. We can't keep her like this any more... I know... I'll try catch him before first lesson... We're in the toilets near the canteen... Right, I'll see you in a minute." She put the phone in her pocket and hesitated for a moment before turning to me.

"Go and put the maintenance sign outside the door." It was the first time she had spoken directly to me, and still her eyes never met mine. "Then help me get her out of this cubicle ready for the paramedics."

I dithered for a few seconds, overwhelmed by all this new information, until she cleared her throat and I quickly rushed to the door. The corridor outside was empty. Everyone was still in breakfast, and there were no lockers in this part of the school. I took a moment to breathe in deep, then turned back inside.

Connie was still in the cubicle, her fingers pressed lightly over Zoe's pulse point. Her hair had come untucked from behind her ear and hung loosely over her face as her lips moved with her silent counting. She seemed so absorbed in this small task that I almost felt bad for disturbing her, though I quickly recognised this sentiment as ridiculous.

I knelt down beside her, tugging off my jumper to place it underneath Zoe's head as we gently laid her in the middle of the bathroom floor before carefully rolling her into the recovery position. I interlinked my fingers with Zoe's as we waited and watched as Connie delicately ran her fingers through the head girl's hair, murmuring to her that it would all be okay.

It almost made my head hurt, this contrast between outward Connie and what was seemingly the real her. She usually came off as so cold, so uncaring about everyone and everything, and then to see her like this, with such tenderness and love in her every move, made me question my every thought about her. Who the hell are you? I thought. I wanted to know the real Connie Beauchamp, to study her like a book or a lab project. I wanted to know everything.

I jumped as the door swung open and in came Mr Fairhead with two paramedics. I stood back as they swooped in and stared in amazement as Connie relayed her heart rate, GCS and details of her condition with expert precision. I was awestruck by her, and had to remind myself to close my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Mr Fairhead reached out and squeezed the top of Connie's arm. She nodded to him with a slight smile.

"It was a bit of a shock," she replied. "But I'm fine. Do you want me to go with her?"

"No I'll go. I should probably speak to her parents about where we go from here." He looked to me. "Who's this?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but Connie interrupted me.

"My roommate, Rita Freeman. She started new in September." I was taken aback my how familiar she sounded when she spoke of me. She spoke as if we had actually had a conversation during my time here. I frowned at her.

Mr Fairhead turned to me with a smile and introduced himself. "I've heard a lot about you," he said kindly, and again before I could manage to speak Connie cut over me.

"What are we going to tell people?" She asked him quickly, not looking at me. "They'll see her leave."

"Tell them she's got a particularly nasty chest infection and that she'll be back after half term," he said, looking towards me as though I was in on their conspiracy. "That gives us just over a week to sort something else out if we need to." The paramedics called for him and he gave us both a half apologetic look. "I have to go, but Connie you've got my mobile number if you need me. Mrs Bateman is going to come down and clean up in here, so just leave the maintenance sign there and she'll sort it out. I'll speak to you later." He gave us both a nod before dashing away.

We stood in silence for several moments, processing what had just happened, until Connie looked at her watch and picked up her bag.

"Hey," I interrupted her actions. "Are you not going to explain to me what just happened? Or even speak to me?" My rage was fast returning.

She sighed and looked at me, properly, for the first time since I had confronted her about Robyn. Her eyes were moist and tired, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked so young, so vulnerable, that it took my breath away and I wanted to hug her. The urge was so overwhelming that I'm certain that I would have if she hadn't spoke.

"I," she began slowly, exhaustedly. "I just need to go and speak to someone about this. I'll tell you, I promise. Wait in the room for me, I won't be long."

"But we've got chemistry," I said quickly, as she had already begun towards the door.

"It doesn't matter." She looked back to me again. "I need to talk to you. Please don't say anything to anyone about Zoe. Let me explain. Please."

I held her gaze for what felt like minutes before eventually nodding. She looked serious, and I needed to know the truth. Her lips moved in a silent 'thank you', then she turned around and was gone.

Butterflies filled my stomach as a made my way back to our dorm, knowing that before long I would be deep in conversation with Connie Beauchamp. Something this small shouldn't have excited me, I know, but I was thrilled. I would finally get to find out what she was really like, to have some kind of connection with her. To me she was magnetic, enchanting and I couldn't get enough of her. She sparked my interest like nothing ever before and for some reason I found myself never wanting to leave her company, even though we never usually spoke.

I waited for her restlessly, alternating between sitting at my desk and on the bed. My mind raced with possible scenarios, of what she might say to me and how. I started to imagine all sorts of fantastical events; she was a secret agent, a hero, an insiders for some higher power. This was the first time that I imagined kissing her, how her lips would feel as she pressed them to mine and confessed her undying love for me. I quickly shook this image away, cursing myself for watching too many soap operas.

Just as I began to wonder if I had been hallucinating and if she would actually turn up at all, I heard the soft thud of her high heels on the carpet outside and the clatter of her key in the door. I quickly straightened myself up and grabbed a magazine from my bedside table, not wanting to look like I had been eagerly awaiting her arrival. I couldn't help but hold my breath.

She came through the door quietly, tiredly, not in her usual bullish fashion. I avoided looking at her straight away, but when I did I saw the exasperate from on her face and the unusual paleness of her skin. This, obviously, had affected her deeply and I felt sorry for her, know that she didn't have friends to help. Maybe that's what I could be.

"Sorry I was a while," she said flatly, swinging her bag around for it it land with a thud on her bed, with her flopping down not long after it. She rubbed under her eyes before bringing her hands down to stifle a yawn.

"It's no problem," I replied, turning to sit cross-legged on my bed, my back resting on the wall behind and my body positioned towards her. She assumed the same position on hers, relaxed, and seemed to zone out for a few minutes before continuing.

"I, er, had a text from Charlie. Mr Fairhead. He says that they've given Zoe some fluids and some antiemetics and she's beginning to come around. He'll be back this afternoon when he's spoken to her parents."

I nodded. "That's good," I said slowly, then added, "do her parents know?"

She smiled faintly. "Yes. Yes her parents know," she replied. "Her parents are good, supportive. They'd support her with anything."

"Is she keeping it?" I asked. She seemed to be happy to answer my questions, so I decided to keep asking them. In fact, I think she seemed almost glad to have someone to talk to about it, as I assumed it was only her and Mr Fairhead who knew what was going on.

She stared at my for a few seconds, contemplatively, before nodding. "God knows why." She laughed half-heartedly and I smiled in return. "She's soft," she said fondly. "She wouldn't have it in her to get rid. Anyway, she'll be fine. I know she will. Her family will be behind her every step."

"Good," I said softly. We didn't speak for a few minutes after this, both lost in our thoughts. She was again the first to break the silence.

"Why did you think I was bullying her?" She asked, looking up at me briefly before again turning her eyes down, avoiding my gaze. Her voice sounded confrontational, but her eyes said that this was purely in attempt to hide the hurt that my accusation had caused. I took a deep breath.

"I saw you with her on the first day of term," I confessed. "Behind the maths block, having a cigarette. I saw you grab her by the arms, and she looked distraught, but before I had chance to see anything else the bell had gone and I was swamped in the crowds coming out of the labs. I'm sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

I could see the frown on her face as she remembered the event in question. "That was the day she told me she was pregnant," she said eventually, playing with a loose thread in her duvet cover. "She was sure if she was going to keep it then, but I knew that she wouldn't be able to go through with a termination. I grabbed her to get the cigarettes off her, and to tell her that she needed to sort herself out and start taking it seriously. She wasn't even talking folic acid, I had to get Charlie to go and fetch some that evening." She rolled her eyes.

"Do you know Mr Fairhead well, then?" This was something that had confused me most about her, the fact that despite skipping lessons and being rude to other members of staff she seemed to be the headteacher's golden girl.

She laughed silently. "I've been here since year seven," she said, smiling. "I got into a lot of trouble, my parents didn't bother, so Charlie took a special interest in me. He's quite distant from his own son, so I thought maybe that was why, but he seems to genuinely care about me. And I him, too, of course. He's like a second father to me."

"How come you still skip lessons then?" I asked.

She grinned. "I think he gave up on that one," she said fondly. "He knows I prefer to learn independently, and so as long as I keep up then he doesn't mind. It's just some subject teachers are easier to convince to let me out of lessons than others. Dr Keogh, for example, would never let me get the work and leave, so there's often friction in that one, as you've seen."

I nodded. "I think you just like winding up Cal, in that lesson," I joked.

"I do find him particularly insufferable, yes," she agreed, laughing. A sudden realisation came over me.

"Is he the father?" I asked suddenly, realising she still hadn't mentioned anything about that.

She shook her head. "No," she said quickly. "No. Zoe finds him just as irritating as I do. It's not him." She paused. "That's what I needed to talk to you about, actually." She looked down at her nails.

"What?"

"The father," she replied, looking at me seriously. I met her gaze, holding it for several moments, trying to read her.

"What about him?" I asked slowly, unintentionally lowering my voice. My heart was thumping in my chest and I tried to convince myself it was the tension her tone of voice had created, not the fact that I had spent several moments lost in her eyes.

She poked out her tongue out to wet her lips as she chose her words, and I unconsciously mimicked this action. "He studies here," she began. I nodded for her to continue. "But his mother holds a very high standard for him. They're extremely wealthy - almost unimaginably so - and someone like Zoe, coming from a council estate and only able to study here because she won a scholarship, she would never approve of. She would take him out of the school. She's also on the Board of Governors, and contributes far more than the tuition fees to the school, and so would probably get Zoe kicked out too, as she would be able to go over Charlie's head with it. He would be powerless." She took a deep breath. "So you understand, nobody can know about this. The plan is for Zoe to carry on as normal for as long as possible, and then if it gets to the point where we can't hide it any longer then we'll either tell everyone she has someone outside of school, or find some other way for her to continue studying without people being able to see her. It's going to be difficult. But if she can just get through her exams then she can still go to med school in a couple of years when she's back on her feet."

"That'll be a long shot," I replied. "Is it really worth the strain on her, and the baby?"

"To her it is. And that's what matters." She looked at me pointedly.

"So who is it then?"

She sighed. "Max Walker."

I gaped. "Max!" I spluttered. "But nobody even speaks to him! How did she get there?"

She smiled with faint amusement. "I have no idea," she said lightly. "But she loves him, and he loves her. Happiest couple I've ever seen, actually. He's going to live with her once they've left school and I know he'll always be there for her and the baby but until then no one must know. Even Robyn." She gave me a look.

"Okay," I replied. "But why? I'm sure she'd be alright with it."

She shook her head. "Well, for starters she's the biggest gossip in the school, and I wouldn't trust her as far as I could chuck her." Did I detect a hint of cockney in her tone just then? "She's too close to her mother. She would definitely spill. Especially because Max reckons she already smells something's up."

"But all the teachers are in on it?"

"Not all," she said, picking a bit of fluff off her knee. "Charlie knows, of course, and Mrs Bateman, since she's deputy head and medical officer too. Dr Keogh knows; she's quite close with him so she told him herself. Before Charlie, actually. Dixie knows, since she's head of our dorms, and Noel, the school counsellor, knows too. But that's everyone."

"Right," I said softly. "Okay. I won't tell anyone. I promise."

She grinned at me, looking relieved. "Thank you."

We spent the rest of that period in the dorm. Connie painted her nails and I looked over my psychology notes ready for next period. We didn't really speak again, but I felt something had shifted and the air between us was clear. She wasn't the monster all the signs had seemed to point to, and I found myself now feeling admiration towards her instead. But I still needed to find out more about her. I was so entranced by her that I wanted to spend every waking second with her, studying her. I wanted to be her best friend, her closest confidant, her second self.

Or at least that's what I thought I wanted until the night after our talk. I woke at five o'clock in the morning from a dream that had immediately evaporated from my conscious mind. My heart felt lighter somehow, and I had turned over to face the other side of the room. I could see Connie lying on her bed, fast asleep and lightly snoring, her face peaceful and slack, illuminated by the moonlight that was seeping through the curtains. Suddenly, upon this sight, my pulse began to throb harder than I had felt before, my mouth watered and my body ached to be close to her. I wanted to hold her, to feel her against me, to taste her lips on mine, more that I had ever wanted anyone.

It was the first time I acknowledged, admitted to myself, that my interest in my roommate was anything but platonic, and I groaned as I realised.

I had an earth-shattering, all-encompassing crush on Connie Beauchamp.

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 **Please remember to review and let me know your thoughts and predictions!x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone! This is another super long chapter, I don't even know how! Thank you so so much for all the fantastic reviews so far, they really do make writing this worthwhile. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up because I have a couple of coursework deadlines coming up, but it will be here ASAP, and there is more freechamp fluff to come! Enjoy!**

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I had expected half term to be the longest of my life. The prospect of spending a whole week in captivity, without any friends to pass the time or lessons to distract me, filled me with complete and utter dread and I felt lethargic, resigned to my fate. According to the school's website, ninety-three percent of its students went home for school holidays. It costs extra to stay, so I came to the bitter conclusion that it was only the most estranged children who were left behind. Myself included.

I was beginning to get more and more frustrated with my parents and their decision to leave me here to fend for myself. I had spoken to them on the phone several times since my arrival. They were having a whale of a time, or so it sounded. It made my jaw clench and my fingers tremble. I felt betrayed, neglected, unwanted. The longing for a good night's sleep in my own bed had never been so strong and I ached for my home comforts. Instead here I was, tossing and turning on a hard mattress, craving homemade pancakes but unable to have any unless they happened to be on the lunch menu, and desperate for a sense of normality.

And then there was her. Connie Beauchamp. It was remarkable how, just in the space of a few hours, I had gone from relief about her departure to almost devastation at the prospect of having to spend an entire week without her. I dreaded being without her much more so than I did my friends, perhaps as there was now that wedge between us, the divide of knowing I needed to watch every word I said whilst I was around them, whereas with Connie I now had a binding; the irrevocable bond between two people that shared a deep secret. Then there was my sudden, almost wild attraction to her and my desperation to form a closer relationship with her. I sensed that our situation was my opportunity to do this, but how could I maintain it if she was away for a week before I could even get started?

The last day of term went all too quickly. There was a buzz going about the corridors, speculation about what could have happened to Zoe that was so terrible she needed an ambulance. Thankfully, none of these theories included pregnancy, and so I was not forced to blatantly lie to anyone around me when challenging this view. The general consensus was that she had overworked herself and in doing so had made herself unwell. Whilst this was by no means something I thought Zoe would like to have spread about her, I decided that it was the best on offer and so went along with it as sensitively as I could.

At dinner that night the loneliness hit me hard and I left most of my meal, feeling for the first time absolute despair of being here. I had, more or less, with the occasional wobble, taken boarding school in my stride so far, surprisingly so. Perhaps I had been burying my head in the sand, or more specifically in my fascination with Connie Beauchamp. Now that was on hold for a week, and although it was ridiculous really, I felt crushed.

Tears now stung at my eyes and I quickly cleared away my plate before making a swift exit from the canteen. It was raining heavily outside and I wasn't wearing a coat but the tears were coming thick and fast now and I knew I had to get back to my dorm. I pulled my cardigan tight around me, bracing myself, before stepping out into the rain. I could hear the faint rumble of thunder off in the distance, and could have sworn I saw a faint flash of lightning too, so my fast walk quickly turned into a run as I made my way to the 'Sparrow' block.

The warm air hit me as I stepped inside, and I felt momentary relief before realising I was soaked through to the skin. I rushed up the stairs, silently cursing the fact I was in the highest room in the school, sobs escaping my lips before I could stop them. I fumbled with the key in my door, my hands shaking with my cold, numb fingers until I finally got in and collapsed on my bed.

I allowed the tears to overcome me then, consume me as I was wracked with loneliness and isolation. I cried for my old friends, for my new ones, and for my parents who had left me so cruelly. In my mind at that moment I hated them, despised them with every ounce of my being. I didn't care about my A levels, about my future; I just wanted my family. But they didn't want me.

I shivered as the soaked fabric of my cardigan and my t-shirt clung to my skin and I realised the wet was seeping into my duvet. Quickly I discarded both items of clothing, throwing them across the room as I once more buried my face in my pillow, the smooth fabric of my duvet feeling warm and comforting against my bare skin. I relaxed slightly into it, my sobs becoming less violent and forceful.

Then I heard the click of the bathroom door opening.

My heart stopped and I turned around to see her standing there, freshly showered, wearing her pyjamas and her face bare of makeup. I stood up quickly, unsure of what to do or say. Had she heard me? Embarrassment gnawed away at my stomach.

I gaped at her, trying to think of something to say as she looked back at me with similar surprise. Her lips were slightly parted and her cheeks pink, though whether this was an effect of the situation or her hot shower I'll never know. It was only when I noticed that her eyes were focused well below my face that I remembered I was in my bra.

I quickly rushed past her and into the bathroom, too mortified to even speak as I slammed the door behind me before collapsing against it, my hand clasped tight over my mouth to quell the sobs that threatened to burst out and humiliate me further. I had always hated people seeing me cry, even my parents, so for her of all people to see me with red puffy eyes and makeup all down my face was almost unbearable, and the fact that she had seen me in such a state of undress even more so.

My stomach twisted as I remembered the look on her face as she saw me. Shock was there, definitely, and something else; revulsion, perhaps. She seemed almost as uncomfortable as I, but made no move to look away, I noticed. I glanced down at my old, over-worn bra and I cringed inwardly. Did she view me as common? Was she purely in shock at how ordinary people lived? I imagined her underwear to be pristine, designer, made of satin and lace. I bit my lip.

I felt like running away, at this point. I realised my feelings for her were too strong for me to spend such time in her company, knowing that she wouldn't think twice about someone like me yet living with that small, naïve glimmer of hope that my feelings would be requited. I held my head in my hands, my mind wandering off into a spiral of self-pity and shame. She was too good for me, I knew it. I didn't even know if she liked women. I didn't even know if I liked women. But I liked her, and already it was driving me insane.

There was a gentle knock at the door.

"Rita?"

I held my breath, my slowed heart rate returning to its rapid pounding. What could I say? I hadn't expected her to stay in the room really, but now realised this assumption was ridiculous seeing as she was dressed for bed. Still, I couldn't fathom why she would spare a thought for me.

"Yeah?" I replied, somewhat shakily, and I cursed myself for sounding so feeble. There was a long pause before she spoke again, and I half wondered if her speech had been only to check that I hadn't fallen into an exhausted sleep on the bathroom floor.

"Are," she began, hesitating. I looked up at the door expectantly. "Are you- are you alright?"

I frowned to myself. What's it to you? I felt like asking. I held my tongue, choosing my words carefully, unsure of what to say, or of how to act around her. We had had just one proper conversation since I had arrived here, and whilst this seemed to be on friendly terms and to have cemented our alliance, I still didn't know just of what nature our relationship was.

"I'm fine," I replied eventually. Goosebumps now stood up on my skin as I tensely waited for what was to come next. If I'm honest, in that moment what I desperately wanted was comfort, for someone to understand and tell me that it would be alright, but it seemed that for this to come from her would be too good to be true.

"Let me in."

It was her turn to sound feeble now, and I froze as the words processed in my brain. Her speech was so tentative, so hesitant that it almost sounded as though it pained her to say it. Was this really Connie Beauchamp's attempt at reaching out? I quickly wiped under my eyes, standing up to risk a glance in the mirror. I looked awful, and nearly broke down in tears once more just at the state of me. I splashed some cold water on my face, hoping to reduce the redness somewhat, before wiping it on the nearest towel and heading for the door. My dressing gown was hanging on the back of it and I wrapped it around myself before turning the lock.

I felt myself tremble as I slowly opened the door to her, avoiding her gaze as she was so close I was certain I felt her breath lightly tickling my cheeks, making me blush furiously. We stood in silence for several moments, me leaning against the half opened bathroom door and her standing in the doorframe. I didn't want to look at her face, couldn't, for the fear of what I would see there. My own face was such a mess I was certain that our gazes would meet in an expression of shock and disgust. I bit the inside of my cheeks to stop more tears.

And then all of a sudden, before I knew what was happening, I was in her arms. I don't know whether I had leant into her or whether she had taken pity on me and decided to pull me into a hug, but as soon as my head hit her chest I was sobbing again, filled with such uncontrollable emotion that I could no longer worry about her seeing me in such a state.

She smelt of apples, and watermelon, plus some unknown scent I hadn't encountered before. I could feel her long, still slightly damp curls brushing against my cheek as I buried my face in her chest and she wrapped her arms around me tightly. It felt so soothing, so right, being here with her like this. I felt an odd kind of warmth spread through my stomach, and I clung tighter to her as I felt my knees weaken, and my head go weary.

And then there was that urge; the devastating, painful urge that accompanies a crush that just cannot be fulfilled. I wanted to feel her breath mingle with mine, I wanted to feel her heart beating against my own, I wanted to slip my cool fingers into her dressing gown and feel the heat of her soft, freckled skin. I wanted to kiss her, explore every inch of her with my lips, feel her overcome my every sense. I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to block these feelings out.

I don't know how long we were stood there like that, her holding me in her arms and me lost in the sensation of being so close, but I then suddenly noticed that I had stopped crying. I felt myself tense as I wondered what she was thinking, why she was still content to hold me when I no longer needed comfort. My heart was hammering, thundering with the contact and I felt myself tense. I took one final deep breath in, trying to commit her scent to my memory as I knew I would probably never be able to get this close again, before pulling myself away from her.

"Thank you," I murmured, pulling my dressing gown sleeve over my hand to wipe the tears from under my eyes. I smiled weakly at her, and she grinned back.

"No problem," she answered, giving my arm a squeeze. "Why don't you have a shower? It'll help you calm down. And you can wash that mascara off your face. You look like you've just crawled out of a pothole."

I laughed. "Thanks," I said, sarcastically. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

She smirked. "Oh I'm just getting started," she replied, a glint in her eyes. "Get a shower."

And with that she swiftly turned away, closing the door behind her and leaving me to blink in confusion at the empty space where she had stood before me.

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I spent longer in the shower than usual, contemplating her actions towards me that day. Every time I thought of her my heart skipped and my stomach jumped, and just remembering the embrace made me grin from ear to ear. I had it so bad for her.

When I finally exited the bathroom, I was shocked to find her sat up in bed, phone in one hand and takeaway menu in the other. I frowned.

"I heard you didn't eat much for tea," she said pointedly, holding out the menu to me. I slowly stepped towards her and took it.

"How did you find that out?" I asked, my forehead creased. Had she been spying on me?

"I have my methods," she said enigmatically. I stared at her. "Dixie came up and told me. She thought maybe you were sick."

"Oh right," I replied, sitting down on my bed. "I don't have any cash on me."

"It's alright, Dixie's paying," she grinned at me. "With the amount it costs to be here it's only fair really. We're allowed to order takeaway in holidays, once. Though sometimes at Christmas they're a bit more lenient."

"Do you stay here for Christmas too?" I inquired.

"Yeah," she said nonchalantly. "I'm always here." She seemed to drift off for a few moments, before turning again to focus on me. "So what do you want then?"

We went through the menu together, deciding on some garlic bread and a donor kebab each. As she called them up I gazed at her in bewilderment, wondering in what way she would surprise me next. She was fast becoming the opposite to all my expectations, and I vowed to get to know her better, to be the best friend to her that I could.

The food arrived and we ate lying side by side on her bed, watching a film on her laptop; we were allowed these too in school holidays. The feeling of lying there with her, being that close, was more than I could have have wished for; it felt like home, better than home, and I never wanted it to end.

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